Nothing Left to Say
by AmazinglyMediocre
Summary: As more lies are uncovered, Steve is faced with a decision that could end everything. Inspired by "Nothing Left to Say" by Imagine Dragons. Developing Romanogers and some whump. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome! This is my first Avengers story, so I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review and tell me if I can make anything better!**

Lights were flashing all around him. He wanted to close his eyes and let death come, but he didn't. The aircraft began to shake as its descent became too fast; his resolve was unshakeable. Peggy Carter gazed at him, begging for him to come home. Every fiber in his being pulled at him to leave, to abandon ship and go back to his best girl. But he couldn't. Freezing water rushed up at him. Everything broke apart as the plane hit the water, throwing him forward. Peggy was lost in the impact as water began to fill the cockpit. He never closed his eyes.

Steve jerked awake as he sucked in a huge breath. A cold sweat was beaded on his forehead. He was still here, still conscious. He rolled onto his side and drew the blankets tighter as memories rolled in like the tide. They washed over him, battered him against the shore. All those people dead, their souls lost in the ferocity of war. Peggy now out of his reach, ill and dying in a hospital bed. Bucky was alive, but lost and wandering like a child without a home. SHIELD was deeply, uncurably infected with the virus that was Hydra. And here he was, believing every lie that was spoonfed to him and unable to do anything to stop it. He was a man out of time.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. They were set to leave for the Swiss Alps in three hours. Five in the morning was a long ways away, and he knew he wasn't getting anymore sleep. He swung his legs out of bed and tugged a shirt over his head. He might as well do something productive before they left.

The apartment was empty as he walked to the elevator. JARVIS would have said something if someone had come in. Quiet music played as he descended. Tony just had to have cheesy elevator music, despite the fact that everyone hated it. Including him. A bitter smile crossed his face as the doors opened. The one tradition that Stark clung to was the one that needed to go out of style.

Two hours later he was riding the same annoying elevator up from the gym. It stopped a floor early and the doors slid open, allowing Natasha to step in. She nodded at him and pressed the button for the shared floor.

"I didn't know you sweat like that in your sleep," she commented.

His mind flicked back to when he had first woken up. "You don't? I must be doing something wrong, then." He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. A ding heralded their arrival at his apartment. Rogers nearly decided to skip showering and instead go to the rec floor with her. He enjoyed her company. He walked out anyways.

He showered in silence, choosing to focus on organizing his thoughts instead of allowing himself to become lost in music. The water pounding on his body seemed to rinse off the dirt and grime of his nightmares. The tidewaters were murky and full of sand that got into every bit of his mind, and though the tide would be back later, it still felt good to be clean. He turned the water colder so as to sharpen his mind. Of course, their destination was plenty cold, but routine was routine. The frigid water was what he used to fully wake up. He finally shut off the water and used a towel to rub himself dry.

The rec room was largely empty when he walked in. Of course, it was like this much of the time. Only a few of them were always in the building at the same time. Tony was sprawled out on the couch while Nat was seated at the bar. Clint was perched on the counter in the kitchen, nursing a pot of coffee. The archer was often too sleepy to bother with pouring a mug of the stuff, so he drank straight from the pot. Even Wanda and Pietro, who were generally fairly early risers, weren't up yet.

"Look who finally decided to wake up," Stark sat up and rested his elbows on his knees as Rogers sat on the couch opposite. "Mr. United States, beaten to the waking world by none other than Clint Barton, father of three and notorious zombie. Anyways, let's get down to business. How are we going to do this, exactly? Just go to the Swiss Alps and ski for the fun of it?"

"I'm down for that," Barton grumbled.

"We're going in to extract some data and pick up a known stolen arms dealer. It should be a pretty quick in-and-out." Steve explained. "Clint, you're going to be on watch, and Tony, you're going to grab our guy. Natasha, you'll help with getting the data."

"How are we getting there and back, exactly?" Nat was staring out the window.

"We're going to take the quinjet. Drop off is around a mile away from the base we're targeting."

"This had better work, or I'm going to personally take Fury's head off." Clint hopped off of the counter and walked out, taking his coffee pot with him.

"Hey, you'd better bring that back!" Stark called after him. The pot suddenly came sailing back into the room and would have shattered on the floor if Rogers hadn't snatched it.

"Christ," the billionaire stood up and turned to go. "JARVIS, lock him out of his room for a few minutes." He ignored the AI as he began to protest.

Steve quietly got up and replaced the coffee pot. Barton would come back for it eventually. He sighed and leaned on the bar behind Natasha. She was lost in thought, her gaze still directed outside. The super soldier took in a breath to say something, but decided against it. It wasn't often that his friend was able to be at peace. He hoped and prayed that this mission would go as planned. There weren't many possible variables, but the ones that did exist were fairly major. The danger of a number of weather occurrences was high, as a snowstorm was forecasted for the day. A large amount of fresh snow had already fallen, which raised the danger of an avalanche as well. Being caught in one of those would lead to an icy death. And this time, there would be no thawing out.

"What are you thinking about?" Romanoff didn't turn to face him, and her voice nearly slipped his mind. He felt a twist of humor as he realized that he was the one that had been lost in thought.

"The mission," he murmured. "There's a lot that could go wrong, and I'm a strong believer in Murphy's Law."

"There's always a lot," she replied, "but I understand. Natural occurrences are not something you can just fight your way out of." The spy turned and looked at him. "There's something else, isn't there?" Her gray eyes searched his face.

"In a sense, but it isn't relevant." He glanced away.

"You're a bad liar, Mr. Rogers. Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?" She smiled.

He couldn't help but smile back. "I thought those days were gone for me."

The redhead stood up. "They're going to be back if you keep lying like that." He thought she winked before she left, but he wasn't sure. He sighed and straightened up again. His mind was playing tricks on him. The super soldier found his way out of the room and down to the armory. He pulled on his suit and grabbed his shield. He was going to make sure that nothing happened to any of his team today.

What would have been an eight hour flight was cut in half by the quinjet's speed and distance capabilities. They reached their destination in a mere four and a half hours. It took another half hour to reach the base.

"Alright, you guys know what to do. Let's do this." Rogers took off at a run. He was surprised at the biting cold, though it was fading as adrenaline began to pump through his veins. Their first objective was to find the computers and download all the information they had. Fury hadn't specified what kind of intel it was, which had immediately raised red flags in Steve's mind. The last time he hadn't been told, it had led to the fall of SHIELD.

He kicked in the door and stood back as Natasha rushed in. Two men started to sound the alarm, but their cries were quickly cut off. The soldier joined the spy and they began the process of finding the control room. Intermittent reports from Hawkeye and Stark kept them informed on the status of the weather and number of men approaching. The snowstorm that he had been dreading was drifting in. It was already wreaking havoc on their communications. Static would overtake their earpieces from time to time and leave them in near silence.

"Cap! Over here!" Romanoff called. She disappeared through a doorway that he soon followed through. One wall was entirely dominated by screens. Several rows of desks ran the length of the room, and one central bank of computers sat in the center.

"This is not what Nick talked about. He said they didn't have the funds for this kind of thing," Rogers said as he pulled out the drive he had been given. He plugged it in and started the download.

"I don't know what to tell you, other than one of you two was very, very misinformed." Nat was keeping a wary eye on the two doors at the back of the room.

"Hey lovebirds, there's quite a few of these guys heading for the main base. I'm currently searching for our target." Stark broke in. Steve rolled his eyes and quietly thanked the powers above for adding a headpiece to his suit. His ears were burning.

"Is that thing nearly done? I'm not liking what I'm hearing on the other side of those doors," Natasha said as she ducked behind one of the desks.

"Yeah, yeah, nearly there." Rogers felt his throat tighten as he saw the images that were beginning to flash across the screen. The documents they were taking weren't intel on the arms dealer's clients, they were information on the super soldier project. Not only on him, but also on failed subjects and numerous other cases that had occurred with the human experimentation. Several black-and-white pictures of Bucky appeared, each with his body in various stages of reconstruction and health. A few had a mere metal skeleton in place of his left arm, while others had the full product of their work. He grit his teeth and yanked the drive out as soon as it was finished. He and Fury were going to have a talk.

"Which door, Cap?" Romanoff glanced back at him and paused. Something must have shown on his face. She gave him a questioning look.

"The left. It sounds like there's nothing there." He pursed his lips and pulled his shield off of his back. His partner got the message and nodded. There was most definitely a number of men outside that door. The spy crept up to the door and placed her hand on the knob. Rogers threw his shield in as soon as she opened the door. It ricocheted off of several men and walls before coming back. He caught it and immediately brought it down on the nearest man's head. Someone jumped on his back and started to claw at his face, tearing his mask back. The captain slung his assailant to the floor and winced as he felt the scratches on his face well up with blood.

"You good?" Natasha asked as she shot a pair of men who tried to come down the hall.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He wiped the blood away and took off at a run. They soon burst outside and found themselves facing four snowmobiles rocketing down the mountain face. "Stark, have you found anything?" Snow was beginning to fall at a fast pace, limiting their visibility.

"Not yet, but I'm getting close. JARVIS found a hidden room." He replied. "I know, I know, I need to hurry up, don't rush me." The billionaire let out a grunt like he had been hit. "Geez, these guys have some guns."

Steve suddenly found that all the oxygen was knocked out of his lungs. He hit the ground and lay on his back, trying desperately to take in some kind of air. He had lost focus and allowed himself to be hit, and now he was paying the consequences. One of the snowmobilers had directly hit him. Any movement at all sent pain shooting through his side. Rogers lay there gasping like a fish out of water as a face appeared above him. The man grinned.

"What a surprise, to find the great Captain America helpless." His heavily accented voice barely reached the captain's ears. What did reach him was the gun pointed at his face. "Where is your shield now?" He was about to pull the trigger when an arrow materialized in his right eye. The man fell forward, instantly dead. Steve finally found the strength to push the man off and stand up. His side hurt like nothing else with every breath he took.

"Jesus, Rogers, could you have eaten that thing any worse?" Clint sounded concerned.

"Probably," the soldier ground out. He barely blocked a punch from another man, then kicked him in the chest. His lungs just didn't seem to take in enough air. Natasha appeared at his side and helped him take out the rest of their attackers. The storm was becoming worse and worse, but it didn't hide the unmistakable roar of more snowmobiles.

"I found the… he has…!" Tony's voice cut in and out. "Get out!" He yelled. "Barton, I'm coming to get you!"

"What's going on?" Steve grabbed a nearby snowmobile that was still running and jumped on. Whatever had Stark in such a panic wasn't good. The ground began to shake as Romanoff climbed on behind him and wrapped one arm around his waist. It would have been pleasant if they weren't fighting for their lives. A sound like that of a roaring beast met their ears. A bluish glow shot overhead, telling them that Stark had left. Rogers gunned it, wincing as the falling snow stung his face. Whatever was coming wasn't good. He felt a sudden burn in his right arm and nearly lost control of the snowmobile. The other men that had been coming were chasing and firing at them.

"Natasha, take the shield!" He yelled. The spy grabbed his shield and held it behind them in an attempt to keep them covered. "God, I hope this works," the captain lowered his head and tried to keep his eyes open. The distant roar was quickly becoming the sound of a deafening freight train. Romanoff clutched tighter at his side. He felt some relief as rocks began to zip past. He had judged his descent properly.

"Be ready to jump, Nat. On my go," his eyes searched for the overhang he had seen earlier, but the snow was falling too fast and the beast behind them was too near. It was going to consume them whether they liked it or not. Their pursuers had already fallen victim, but the creature could not be sated. It was breathing down their necks.

Someone who was watching from a distance would have seen the snowmobile shatter into a million pieces as it hit the rock.

Steve once again felt beyond winded as he reached for Natasha. She was limp and unconscious as he pulled the shield from her back and clamped it onto his own. He tucked her into his chest and tried to brace for their landing. No amount of preparation could have told him how badly it would hurt. They slammed into the ground and tumbled. And then they were falling again. It was a short fall, but it was enough. Rogers cracked his head on the rock below and everything disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

"Steve? Natasha? Can you hear me?" A pause. "Come on, Rogers, wake up." A longer pause. "Dammit!" And then some side mumbling that he couldn't make out. The voices were too far away. Everything felt fuzzy and dulled, as if he was experiencing the world from the inside of a cotton ball. His head pounded, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Please respond, anything, just let us know if you're alive under there," the voice—Tony's—sounded defeated.

He took a breath to speak, but nearly lost it as his side lit on fire. It left his chest in something between a gasp and a groan. The cotton ball effect was leaving very, very quickly. Everything sharpened as he struggled to bring in enough oxygen. A wheezing sound reached his ears, and he realized it was his own. Just about everything was screaming in pain at this point, and he wasn't sure if it was from the frigid cold that surrounded him, or if it was from actual injuries.

"Steve, Steve, calm down. You need to calm down. You're kind of in a sticky spot, and I'm not sure how long you're going to be there. Try to control your breathing, buddy. There's only so much oxygen for you to waste." Stark said. He tried, but it only made the burn in his chest that much brighter. "Okay, ignore me and just keep taking up all the oxygen. That's cool." He knew that Tony was trying to piss him off, but he couldn't be told to care at that point.

"Hey, hey," a quieter voice met his ears. Warm fingers gently pulled his earpiece out and removed his mic. "I know you're not going to like the sound of this, but he's right. Now listen and do what I ask you to. I promise this will make things better, Steve." He cracked his eyes open and saw Natasha next to him, surrounded by a background of gray. "I need you to sit up."

"Can't," he ground out.

"Yes you can." She put one hand under his head and her other on his shoulder. "Just do what you're able to. On three. One… two… three."

Every fiber in his being protested the movement as she helped pull him up. His lungs were hardly doing anything other than seize up. Something was unclipped from his back and Nat started to lower him back down.

"I told you so," she smiled. Breathing was coming easier now. "You were lying on your shield, which put your back at a bad angle." His eyelids felt heavier and heavier. He was struggling to keep them open. She smoothed his hair back. "Just relax," she murmured as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. All the tension left him and he let himself drift.

He slowly opened his eyes to the constant sound of a heart monitor. An oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face. He saw that the room was plain, with beige walls and a white tile floor. A TV was hanging down from the ceiling, and the entire left wall was a curtained window. It was dim, but his eyes still hurt from the light. His mind tried to trace back to what had happened, but came up blank. The beeping next to him began to speed up as panic raced into his thoughts. Had he missed another generation? Were the others dead and gone? An alarm of some kind started emanating from the machine next to him. Footsteps were coming down the hall outside.

"Not again, not again, not again," he mumbled. It was his mantra, the one thing that he could make out of the hurricane in his mind. He ripped off the oxygen mask and took in a breath. It hurt, but he put it out of his mind. He had to get out. The soldier jerked upright and started tearing at the numerous wires and cords that were hooked to his body.

Several people burst in, who he assumed to be doctors. They were shouting his name, telling him to calm down. He struck out at them as they tried to restrain his convulsing body. Not again, not again, not again. One of them had a syringe in hand. His left arm was forced down into the mattress and the needle plunged into the inside of his elbow. The sedative acted immediately as his blood turned to lead.

"God, Steve, what's wrong with you?" The one that had given the shot rubbed at his neck.

Another spoke up in a heavily accented voice. "He is afraid, Mr. Stark. He thought that he had woken up in another century." Rogers felt shame filling his throat like bile. His fears had caused him to attack those he cared about most. His cheeks were wet as he slumped down to the bed and back into the darkness.

He eventually returned to the waking world. This time, everything ached. Someone was holding his hand, though they retracted immediately when his heart monitor started to pick up. They got up and left, soon coming back with one other set of feet.

"Morning, sunshine. Did you sleep well?" Clint flopped down in one of the chairs beside the bed as Rogers opened his eyes. "Actually, sorry, it's kind of three in the afternoon. Afternoon, sunshine." The archer was spinning a pen between his fingers. He propped his feet on the bed next to where Natasha had chosen to perch.

Romanoff rolled her eyes. "Tony's off pouting, so we're going to tell you what we know, or at least what you don't know. Do you remember anything?" She frowned when Steve shook his head. "We went to Switzerland to retrieve some SHIELD data and to grab an arms dealer." The spy pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and held a finger to her lips. "We lost the drive after our dealer blew himself up and triggered an avalanche. Clint and Tony escaped, but we got stuck for around half an hour. You've been asleep for about a day now."

"You smacked your head pretty hard, so don't be surprised if you don't remember much. You'll probably also feel some nausea and be more irritable than normal. As for the rest of your body, you kind of trashed yourself. That snowmobile broke four of your ribs and punctured a lung, which explains why you had such a hard time breathing. Let's see, uh, you also got shot in the arm. Thankfully it's only a graze. The rest is all just bruising and the like, seeing as to how you thought it was a good idea to crash your snowmobile and roll down a mountain. Your shield also cut a pretty good gash into the back of your neck, so don't be messing with that. Am I forgetting anything?" Barton yawned.

"Some hypothermia and frostbite, but those won't be bothering you anymore. You should be back to normal in a couple of weeks." Natasha patted his leg. "Sorry about the scare earlier. We needed to keep you here for monitoring."

"So, can I sign your cast?" Clint grinned and stood up. "I'll see you two later. The kids have probably burned the house down by now." He walked out.

Natasha moved one of the chairs closer to the bed and sat down. She grabbed a cup of water off of the bedside table and held it to his lips. He drank and nodded at her gratefully.

"Do you need anything?" She leaned forward and started removing the heartbeat sensors from his chest.

"Yeah," he said, "a burger." His throat felt like sandpaper, and his voice didn't sound much better.

A smile crossed her face. "I'm not sure if you're allowed to have one, but I'm sure that I can make it happen." She pulled out her phone and texted someone. "Tony will be happy to pay for it."

"Like he'd notice a burger on his endless receipt," Rogers sighed, though his chest felt tight doing so.

"You okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine. The painkillers are helping."

She shook her head. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." He admitted. "I'm okay." His eyes flicked to the ceiling. "A lot happened." What he hadn't forgotten about the mission was what was on the hard drive. "Has Fury tried to contact us?"

"No. I sent in the report and he hasn't tried to say anything." She looked at the floor. "Do you remember anything?"

"Vaguely." He mumbled. Exhaustion was closing in on him, and the painkillers flowing through his body weren't helping.

"Pinocchio, your nose is growing!"

A wry grin touched his face. "Sure, whatever makes you happy." He glanced over at her. "How are you?" His head was swimming.

She shrugged. "I'm fine. Should be a lot worse. Thanks," her voice was quiet. Rogers wondered why she was thanking him, but didn't have the energy to ask why. Trying to remember was a bit too much effort at the time. He nodded and let his eyes slide closed. Natasha started to say something else, but realized he had fallen asleep. She shook her head and stood to leave. "You'll make it," the spy whispered before pressing a kiss to his forehead and then walked out.

Steve was returned to his room three days later. He found a laptop and the flash drive sitting on his bed. A sticky note read "Don't worry about Fury. –N." The soldier sighed and set the thing to the side. He didn't have it in him to look. He had a headache and it would only add to the tidewaters, which had been rushing in every night. And yet he desperately wanted to look at what was hidden on that flash drive. He needed to know what had happened.

Rogers sat down and pulled the computer into his lap. He was going to find out. The quicker he knew, the quicker it would go away. His fingers shook as he plugged the drive in. He would start from the beginning and go from there, he decided. At first, the files were all that was to be expected from an arms dealer's database. Records of legal and illegal sales alike were present. Steve ran a couple of fingers along the stitches in the back of his neck as he looked. This was the stuff that Fury had most likely counted on him seeing and consequently assuming the rest of the data was the same type of stuff. He was beginning to wonder if there had even been anything pertaining to him and Bucky when the images started to appear. Barnes lying in the snow surrounded by a puddle of his own blood. Barnes stretched out on an operating table with too many tubes and wires connected to him to count.

Breathing had suddenly become a lot more difficult as he flipped through the pictures. Several files contained medical data and specs on his enhancement and on the cybernetics used. Others documented the mental changes. Barnes had become violent and ill-tempered after the memory wipe, and that had never changed. His punishments had gone from physical to mental; from things like electrocution to playing on his worst fears. Bucky was conditioned to hate every target he was given. And then he was put on ice and left alone for years.

Rogers squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as his headache worsened. The files tracked up to just a few months ago, and then ended. One spec had stuck out to him. He went back to the specific text and felt his throat constrict when he found it. Barnes was tied to Hydra as long as he lived. The cybernetics in his arm required a recharge, and, judging by the amount of time that had passed, that recharge was going to be soon. Bile rose in his throat at the idea of his best friend being returned to Hydra. He had to go find him.

"Captain Rogers," JARVIS' voice startled him, "I would advise that you get some rest. You should not be staying awake like this in your current condition." The AI fell silent again. Steve checked his watch. It was nearly three-thirty. How much time had he spent looking at that drive? He hadn't even finished reading through it. The soldier sighed and slid the laptop under his bed. JARVIS was right; he needed to rest. He laid down and closed his eyes. An hour passed and sleep still wouldn't come. Rogers eventually got up and started to pace the length of his room. Searching for Bucky would lead to a lot of implications from SHIELD. He eventually came to the conclusion that he would either have to continue with SHIELD and keep his search on the side, or disappear to find his friend. Either way, he was going to be leaving someone he cared very much about.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and chose to avoid the thought entirely and instead go to the gym. Some exertion would help to clear his head. Of course, he technically wasn't supposed to do anything more than go for a walk, but no one would know the difference if he went now. He quietly walked out and boarded the elevator. He made it to the gym without incident and smiled when he saw that it was deserted.

"Captain Rogers, I would not advise any kind of high-intensity activity," JARVIS warned as the captain started stretching. He ignored the AI and continued to loosen up. He had spent too long in bed. His sore muscles rejoiced in the activity. Nothing hurt too badly, which he took as a good sign. His one worry was the stitches in his right arm. Those or the ones in his side from putting his ribs back together were the most at risk for tearing. He loosened the bandages enough to allow for easier movement and then hung up a punching bag.

The punches started easy and eventually ramped up to something far past what he should have been doing. He kept going until he was breathless and in need of a rest. A frown briefly crossed his face as he saw blood spotting the bandage on his arm, but ignored it. A little bleeding was normal in his book. It wasn't long before he was back at it, throwing punch after punch. He felt weightless for the first time in a while, simply a man instead of Steve Rogers. But that could only last for so long. He suddenly remembered who he was as he let loose one last punch. The stitches in his arm tore as easily as the stitches in the punching bag. It went flying, spewing sand everywhere. Rogers grunted and pressed a hand to where the cut was. His hand immediately came back red and sticky.

"Would you like for me to call someone?" JARVIS asked. If a robot could sound smug, he would have.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just get the elevator down here." Steve left the bag where it was. Tony could yell at him later. His arm was radiating pain.

"Will do," JARVIS said as the doors opened. The soldier stepped inside and leaned against the wall. Blood was everywhere, covering his arm and side. He froze as the lift decelerated. It was too early. Rogers held the close button on the doors and rolled his eyes as the doors opened anyways. Natasha was waiting.

"What did you do?" She didn't sound surprised in the least as she walked in. They both got out on his floor and she told him to go sit on the edge of the tub. "You probably should have listened to JARVIS, you know."

"Probably. My age never has made me wise." He gave a wry grin that quickly faded as she unwrapped his arm.

"You really did overdo it, Steve." She said as she inspected the wound. "Hold still." Her deft fingers started to pluck out the torn stitches. "Do you have a needle and thread?"

"Yeah, first aid kit under the sink." He watched her as she worked. It was nice, being able to freely look at her without her scrutiny. He averted his gaze when she glanced up.

"Are you going to go look?"

"I don't know." He knew she had looked at the drive.

She nodded. "You know I'm always here for you," she murmured. Her gaze was intense. He felt his ears burning and smiled sheepishly.

"And I for you," he replied. Nat nodded and returned to her work. It wasn't long before she was rewrapping his arm. "There." She taped off the wrap and stood. He followed suit and then the two of them were staring at each other. It was a juxtaposition that brought a grin to his face; him, covered in blood and, her, with hair still mussed from sleep.

"What's so funny?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Nothing," he bit his lip to stop the smile.

"I'm sure you're well aware that public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," she stepped closer and gazed up at him.

"This isn't very public, is it?"

"I suppose not," she laced a hand around the back of his neck, careful to avoid the stitches there. Her lips gently met his and, unlike their last kiss, both of them meant it.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve chose to try and get at least a couple hours of sleep. Even the little bit would help. He felt good, his mind still reliving the events of the past half hour. A hope tickled the back of his mind; perhaps Natasha could keep the tide out for the night. He wouldn't have to be scared to face the darkness that filled his dreams. She would help him. That thought was what helped him to slip into the waters.

He couldn't have been more mistaken. The tide came crashing in, as always. His eyes opened to what he had relived a thousand times. The train car was following a high up mountain pass, its side opened to the elements. Wind rushed past his ears and battered his body. This was the same as always, and yet it wasn't. Instead of staring out of the car, he was staring in. There he was, his past self desperately reaching. Rogers clung to the wire he had grabbed and felt fingers graze his collar. And then his strength gave out. He was falling, the train zooming away faster and faster. His left arm was screaming in agony. Despite everything, he felt a terrible sense of failure. He always did. He twisted around and saw the ground rushing up to meet him.

The soldier woke up as he hit the ground. His body was bent and broken, and yet he was whole. Pain raced up and down his arm, igniting his nerves and burning his muscle. He grit his teeth and walked into the bathroom. Dark circles stained under his tired red eyes. Rumpled blonde hair stuck to his forehead, soaked in cold sweat. Bruises peeked out from under his shirt and all over his arms. It was his, all his.

A knock at his bedroom door made him start. "Steve? JARVIS said your stress levels are up. Everything okay?"

Rogers bit his lip and crept back to his bed. He didn't want to talk to Nat, not like this. She had seen enough already. He was careful to slide back into bed as if he was rolling over. The doorknob jangled and he pressed his face into the pillow. He felt like a kid again, trying to play asleep to make his parents go away. What had happened to last night?

He wanted to run when the door opened. She had either picked the lock, or JARVIS had unlocked it. He suspected the latter. Silence followed. He had to force himself to stay still as fingers lightly ran over his back. The bed shifted as she sat next to him.

"I know you're awake, Steve." She murmured. "Even Clint is better at playing dead than you are. I would say that Tony is, but he never sleeps anyways." Her fingers found their way to play with his hand. "I didn't think you to be a nail biter," Rogers sighed and rolled over to face her. A smug grin lit up her face.

"I'm a lot of things that you don't think I am."

"Like?" She held his hand in both of hers.

"That depends on what you think, doesn't it?" He gave a tired smile.

"Perhaps," her gray eyes were fixed on the wall. He allowed his to slide closed. He really was tired, but sleep wasn't exactly enjoyable as of late. "Why did JARVIS tell me that you were stressed?"

"That's one thing that I'll let you think about."

She rolled her eyes as she laid down next to him. "Can I guess?"

"I won't tell you any different." He wanted to pull her closer.

"Are you going to sleep on me?" She did the work for him and tucked into his side, one arm laced across his waist and her head on his shoulder.

"Probably," his voice was quiet. "Are you?"

"Maybe," she toyed with the edge of his shirt.

He could have stayed like that forever; on the brink of sleep with her in his arms. But he didn't. His decision was already made, and he couldn't stay.

His plan had to be something intricate, as the others would expect something simple from him. They would be looking for Steve Rogers walking the streets and leaving hints everywhere he went. What they wouldn't be looking for is what he would become. He stared out the window as the sky became brighter and brighter. The morning was coming on fast.

It was nearly daylight when Natasha spoke. "What are you thinking about?"

"A lot," he started to sit up, wincing as his sore ribs protested. She nodded and easily swung out of bed. Thankfully it was a Saturday and they could get away with sleeping in.

The two of them wandered into the rec room a few minutes later, eliciting a snide remark from Tony about taking the phrase "sleep together" too literally. He was sitting at the bar munching on some unknown substance. Wanda and Pietro were sitting on the floor in front of the couch, both completely immersed in their game of Mario Kart. Steve immediately pushed all thoughts of his plan out of his mind, as Wanda would most likely pick up on them.

 _Too late_ , he thought as he noticed her dark eyes on him. He kept things under lock and key anyways. The less she knew, the better.

It was when he was about to leave to start purchasing supplies that she confronted him. She stuck her hand in the elevator as the doors were closing and stepped inside.

"Captain Rogers," she started, "are you making a mistake? You are very happy here." The doors closed and Rogers pressed the button for the ground floor.

"I may be," he said, "but I need to go."

She frowned. "I understand."

He nodded at her and they stood in silence until the doors slid open again.

"When?" She asked.

"Soon," he knew Fury was going to send them back out as soon as he was well again. That left only a week or so. She pursed her lips and then pushed her hands into her pockets.

"I would do the same for Pietro." She paused. "You are a good friend, Captain Rogers." The doors closed between them, leaving Steve in the general quiet of the lobby. He turned and walked away.

His nights were spent looking through the flash drive. The Soviets had created an entire network of underground tunnels, which Hydra had improved upon and made their own. Maps and diagrams were included, along with all access points to any main bases. That drive was a goldmine.

It was Thursday night when Natasha appeared in his apartment. He casually closed the laptop and directed his attention at her as she stepped off of the elevator. His eyes were burning with exhaustion.

"I thought the elderly went to bed at seven," she teased. A quick glance at the clock read that it was just past midnight.

"And I thought that little kids went to bed at eight," he retorted, pushing the laptop away to make space for her on the couch. "Do you need anything?"

"No, just wanted to see my favorite soldier." She smiled and sat next to him. His chest tightened as he realized that they would only have a couple more days until he ruined everything. "You alright?"

"Perfectly fine," he replied as he slung an arm across the back of the couch. Nat tucked into his side and looked closely at his face.

"Nightmares?"

"Nope, haven't been bothering me. I was just having a hard time because of what we found." The statement, in a sense, was true. The nightly images of death hadn't been bothering him, but that was because he refused to sleep. And he had, in fact, been having a hard time after seeing in detail what had happened to his best friend.

"That's good." She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Have you found any new leads on him?"

"No, and Sam hasn't either." He wasn't about to tell her that Sam had stopped looking several weeks ago. The man had chosen to go back to normal civilian life for the time.

"You'll find him," she reassured him. "He can't stay hidden forever."

"That's what I'm worried about," Steve sighed. "His cybernetics can only go so long without a charge, and that time period is coming to an end. He's going to have to go back to Hydra at some point in the near future. It's like a leash, Nat. He's able to run and be free for a little while, but he can only go so far before that leash yanks him right back."

"Yeah," she smiled. "I thought you were an artist, not some kind of fancy author."

"I thought I was too."

They were sent to Moscow two days later. He, Natasha, Tony, and Wanda soon found themselves standing in the frigid November weather. The base they were infiltrating seemed beyond empty, and they found the main room within minutes.

"Wanda, tell me if anyone is in the area." Rogers said as he pushed a flash drive into the computer. Anger again filled his chest as Hydra files appeared. He yanked the drive out once it was done and pocketed it. Maximoff was staring at him. Natasha had walked in.

"There's no one left. They've all run, or they weren't here in the first place. Did the computer have anything good?" She stopped in front of him. Now they just had to wait, apparently.

"Yeah, it's all fine. Just the usual," he felt nerves boiling in his stomach. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Wanda stared off into the distance, deep in thought.

"Oh, gross, cooties!" Stark made gagging noises, which gave Steve the excuse to pull his earpiece out and remove his mic. Romanoff did the same.

"This is new," Nat's lips brushed against his neck. "Not the kind of thing I'd expect from Captain America." He hummed in response and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Like I said, there's a lot of things that you don't think I am." He watched the sky for Tony.

"What are you looking for?" She followed his gaze.

"A lot of things, Natasha." He kissed her hard as the sound of rockets reached their ears. Stark was coming in fast. Rogers struck as the billionaire was trying to land. Both hands and feet were occupied in trying to control his descent, so there was nothing he could do against the attack. Steve hurled his shield and managed a direct hit to the man's chest. He felt a surge of gratitude as he noticed that Wanda had conveniently wandered away, too far to catch him.

The one problem was the Black Widow currently tackling him to the ground. He grit his teeth and shoved her back, rolling out of the way as Tony recovered his senses and tried to smash his face in. His shield flew back to his arm and he ducked behind it as the high pitched screams of reactors hit his ears. The impact of the lasers jolted his arms, but he was able to get up and run in a matter of seconds. Something burned his left calf as he was trying to get away, making him stumble and nearly fall.

Steve was focused on his destination, an apartment building a couple of blocks down. He just had to run that far, and then he was free. He scooped up his bag that he had hidden, slinging it over his back and pouring on the speed. And suddenly he was skidding on the pavement, his breath nearly gone. Stark was immediately between him and his destination, landing and raising both reactors.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" The mechanic yelled. "Trying to kill us?"

"If I wanted you dead, your body would already be cold!" Rogers pushed himself to his feet and faked left before throwing his shield again. This time his opponent was ready and he dodged. What hadn't crossed his mind was the magnets. The shield came flying back and smacked into the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. Steve took his chance and took off again. He drove the shield down into Tony's back, digging it into the suit and leaving it. His feet carried him into the apartment building and down into the basement. He skidded into a side hallway and slammed the door behind him. He had made it.

His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dim light in the tunnel, but it was there. He quickly ducked into another tunnel and changed into dark skinny jeans and a band hoodie. The band was some kind of Russian rock gig that was performing in town. Steve Rogers changed into just another fan and left his suit behind. He quickly pulled out a battery powered set of clippers and buzzed the sides of his head, using a mirror to make sure that his new undercut was even.

He pulled his hood up and took the nearest exit, emerging from the back of a shop and onto the street. Wanda was walking down the street, obviously told to help find him. She cast her eyes right over him as if he wasn't her leader, just another guy heading to the concert that night. It felt good to be untethered.

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review-they really make my day!**


	4. Chapter 4

Steve found his way deeper and deeper into the city, keeping his head down and his hands jammed into his pockets. The flash drive seemed to be burning into his hand. He kept his eyes open and nearly ran when he saw Tony flying overhead. The billionaire paused for a moment, hovering over the intersection ahead. People stopped and stared, pointing and muttering to each other. Iron Man was obviously not a favorite amongst the Russians, as a few bent to pick up rocks. That gold plated head swiveled slowly, looking more like a robot than a man. Rogers turned to say something to the guy standing next to him, using the basic Russian that he had crammed the week before. When he glanced back at Stark, a pair of glowing blue eyes were locked onto him. Adrenaline started to seep into his blood.

"Why is he looking at you?" The other guy whispered.

Steve shrugged, using the pause to scrounge up the words. He needed to work on his Russian. "I don't know," he finally replied. Iron Man was still staring at him.

A rock suddenly hit him. The people began to yell and scream, rushing at Tony with the fury that only a mob could muster. Rogers used the chaos to run down a side alley. He needed to shake them off of his trail. A glance behind him revealed two people coming after him. They were obviously SHIELD agents. No Russian civilian would run with that kind of purpose.

"Stop! Steven Rogers, stop where you are!" One shouted. Steve continued to run as he burst out onto the next street. Several people stopped to stare at him, though they turned and ran a moment later. Tony was dropping out of the sky like a rock, with a shadow made of hundreds of people. The rioters were continuing to pelt him with stones and other debris.

Rogers threw himself to the ground and rolled out of the way as Stark landed. He would have been flattened if he hadn't moved. The mechanic let out a frustrated yell and tried to grab his head, instead getting the back of his hoodie. Steve was yanked backwards, immediately put in a chokehold. Stark had every intention of choking him out; his grip was almost too tight. The captain struggled, weakened, and then went limp. He waited for the arm around his throat to loosen, and then swung an elbow back hard enough to crack Tony's faceplate off. Blood pounded in his ears as the other man stumbled back. They stood and faced each other.

"Fury is beyond pissed at you, and so am I," the mechanic spat blood onto the pavement. He cast a wary glance around the people forming a ring around them, as the mob had stopped to watch the fight. Steve readjusted his hood, amazed that it had stayed on through the duel. Movement above them caught his eye and he saw the quinjet hovering overhead.

"You think I don't know that?" He rubbed at his neck, feeling the bruises developing there. "I'm not an idiot, Stark." The captain tightened the straps on his bag as SHIELD agents materialized out of the crowd. He looked to the right and saw the quinjet touch the ground. "I hope you know that this isn't out of malice."

"Sure, yeah, I'm going to take your attempt on my life as a joke and just let it slide." Stark raised a hand and narrowed his eyes. He was trying to calculate his opponent's next move.

"Who said this was a joke?" Rogers faked to the right and then dove left, feeling the heat from a reactor blast on his cheek. He barreled through the people in his way and forced his way back into the alley he had just come out of. Shouts rang out behind him, echoing in strange ways around the walls. What had been a few voices became what sounded like a thousand. A doorway on his right held the symbol he had been looking for. He kicked the door in and ignored the shocked stares of the people inside. They could pay for a new door, but he couldn't pay for a failure. His head ached as he pounded down the stairs, abandoning all hopes of being stealthy. He just had to get down into the tunnels, and then he would be free.

Footsteps were coming from behind him as he entered the basement. There were no doors other than the one he had just slammed. He grit his teeth and started looking for an exit. There had to be one. A crack in the wall in front of him showed a dim glow, which could only mean one thing. His fist smashed straight through the drywall and it easily gave as he threw his shoulder into it. Dim orange light lit the hall as he ran down it. The click of metal on the concrete floor made him push harder as adrenaline flooded his veins again. Tony was following.

He whipped around a corner and immediately jumped straight up. He caught himself by pressing his hands and feet into the walls around him. Darkness swallowed him as he walked farther up the shaft like that. A ladder had originally led up to a hatch at the top of the hole, but the ladder was gone and the hatch closed up. It now served solely as a hiding place. Memorizing the map of the tunnels was proving useful time and time again as Stark ran below him. Several agents followed.

Rogers let out a breath and dropped back into the main hall. An agent took in a breath to yell, but was cut off as his head hit the concrete wall. He had obviously been stationed to keep a watch out. The captain turned and ran in the opposite direction, away from Stark and away from everything else. His feet carried him to an exit near the airport. An idea had come into his mind, and it would most likely throw them off.

Steve took a deep breath and tried to make himself look as if he hadn't just been running for his life before climbing the stairs and emerging in an empty room. Further exploration revealed that he was in the basement of an office building. He crept up to the main floor and out onto the street. The airport was a block down. He kept his hood on and tried to act normal as he walked, though he was ready to bolt.

An hour later, Steve Rogers had bought tickets and taken a flight to London. A man in a black hoodie left the airport and went to a nearby hotel, making sure to pay for the room in cash. He stumbled up to his room, feeling impossibly tired as he pushed the card into the door and opened it. His bag hit the floor with a thump as the door shut. Exhaustion made his steps heavy as he made his way to the bed and collapsed onto it. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. His tickets to the rock concert were forgotten in the bag on the floor. He didn't have the energy to try and make it. The adrenaline rush from earlier had left him deflated and empty. Darkness came and swept him into a dreamless sleep.

Rogers woke up the next morning to rain slapping the window. His mind tried to piece together what had happened as he pulled the covers up higher. He was still too tired to move. The captain stared out the window for a few minutes before the tide dragged him under again.

His eyes cracked open again to see Natasha sitting next to him. She was playing with his hair, which he remembered was now trimmed into an undercut. They were in his room as a storm raged outside.

"Morning, sunshine." She didn't sound as cheerful as she should have.

"Morning," his voice was rough. "Why are you here?"

"Just needed to see you." She drew one knee up and hugged it to her chest.

He blinked. "You can see me anytime," he grabbed her hand and held it.

"I wish," she gazed out the window. "But you left."

"I'm right here, Nat. What's the matter?" He sat up and faced her.

Her eyes were cold as she looked at him. "You've ruined all of it. Your stupid search for a man who doesn't even know who you are has nearly gotten several people killed."

"I-I didn't mean for all of that to happen," he stuttered, "I tried to get out without causing trouble."

She yanked her hand away. "You've failed, Steve. I trusted that you would stay and let it happen, but you didn't. I don't know what to think of you anymore, you traitor."

"I never betrayed anyone!" He protested. His next sentence died in his throat as she drew a knife. Her left hand shone with metal plating. A glance up at her face revealed Bucky standing in front of him. He was no longer in bed; he was instead standing on the street.

"Buck, Buck, it's me." Rogers held up his hands, noticing that his shield was clipped to his arm. "Look, you remember me. It's Steve."

The Winter Soldier ignored him, lunging and stabbing with the knife. "I don't know you," he growled. The dagger met its mark and Steve hit the asphalt, his chest burning. He looked up, expecting to see Bucky going for the final blow. An arrow was instead protruding from his chest and Tony was standing over him, a foot on his chest.

"You've been discontinued, Spangles." The billionaire growled. His visor was up, revealing empty eyes. "We can't keep a traitor on the team."

Steve woke up and rushed to the bathroom. His stomach emptied its contents and then some, leaving him in a crumpled heap on the floor. He laid there, the cold tile pressed against his face like a dead hand. A glance at his watch told him that nearly a day had passed, which was another day closer to Bucky's expiration. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, feeling odd as his fingers brushed across the shaven skin on the sides of his head. He realized that he still needed to dye it.

The mirror showed him a similar image as from nights before. Red eyes, swollen lids, dark circles. He had seen it all. Rogers sighed and walked out to where his bag was abandoned on the floor. A few moments of digging produced the clippers and a box of hair dye. He touched up his undercut and then started the process of dying his hair.

An hour produced very different results from what he had expected. What was supposed to be reddish-blonde came out very, very red. He frowned at his reflection. Natasha would be proud of this shade. He smiled bitterly and then went about cleaning all traces of the dye. He would dispose of the trash somewhere else, but all the red stains in the sink and tub had to go. He scrubbed at the marks and didn't stop until there was no sign that anything had been done.

He went back into the main room and decided to take inventory. His bag contained no less than thirty thousand dollars courtesy of Tony Stark's bank account, a box of granola bars, his laptop, a second change of clothes, a framed picture of him and Bucky, a notepad and pencil, his passport and ID, his fake passport and ID, and his SHIELD creds. The credentials would only be useful for bluffing, as he was positive that they had been cancelled. He picked up the picture frame and wiped it clean, staring at the two faces in the picture. They were still the same faces, but they were also changed. What had been a cheerful, happy smile on Buck's face was probably never to be seen again. His own smile would never be replicated. Too much had happened; so many things had changed and gone wrong. The uniforms they were wearing would never be worn again, the location had been destroyed, and their own friendship was out the window.

He supposed that war did that to people. It broke friendships, tore families apart, and took life after life after life. It was a vicious thing. But he also knew that it brought people together. War had brought the Avengers together in the first place, hadn't it? And yet it had taken Thor's brother from him. Loki was beyond gone. Bruce had left because of it, and he knew that Tony was suffering the loss.

Steve shook his head and stuffed the picture back into the bag. He had no time to be doing this when Bucky's time was running out. His fingers closed around the flash drive in his pocket and he immediately pulled it out. He had forgotten all about it. A few moments later it was pulled up on his laptop. Images of Bucky appeared again, but they were different this time. The Winter Soldier was dressed in civilian clothes and looked to be walking down the street. Rogers flicked through them, checking the dates. The most recent one was from right before he had broken free and stolen the drive. He furrowed his brow and went back through the pictures. The storefronts that were shown were all Russian, which meant that he was at least in the right country.

A quick Google search showed that the shops were all chains and could be anywhere in Russia. Steve sighed and continued to look at the details. Nothing gave away the location—the streets were all in other cities as well as Moscow. He chewed his lip and kept looking. Each picture appeared to be in the same area, however, which said that Barnes was staying in one vicinity. He frowned as the screen changed to a new picture. It hadn't been on the drive before. The date read two days later. Rogers let a smile break out on his face; the picture was definitely from Moscow. He was in the right place.


	5. Chapter 5

He decided to go and scope out the area. A quick shower and change of clothes later, he was out on the street with his bag slung over his shoulder. His room keys were lying on the front desk of the hotel. He hailed a cab and rode over to the small coffee shop that he had seen Bucky in front of. Steve decided to wait and watch the area for the day. He walked into the coffee shop and bought a hot chocolate before going back outside and sitting down on a bench. It was a cold, crisp day, but the temperature didn't bother him. He watched the people that passed by and let out a breath. He missed Natasha, though he was fairly unwilling to admit it to himself. She was a tie that he was willing to keep, but he couldn't talk to her now. He could handle being alone for a few days. However, as he watched couples and families walk past, he couldn't help but want her. Being alone was fine with him, but he felt truly lonely for once.

The day passed surprisingly quickly, and as he stood up and stretched his legs his eyes settled on a payphone. Maybe he could talk to her, if only for a few minutes. He walked over and pushed in the needed coins before dialing her number.

"How did you get this number?" She sounded irritated.

"Oops, wrong number. I guess I have the wrong Natasha Romanoff."

"Steve?" Her voice had instantly lifted. "What are you doing? Where are you?"

"I'm really sorry, Nat, but I can't tell you." He leaned his head against the glass of the booth and sighed. "I just wanted to call."

"Okay," she said, "okay. I understand."

"How are you?" He stared at his feet.

"Missing you. Are you alright? You sound tired."

"I'm a little tired," he said. Understatement of the century. Despite the amount of sleep he had gotten, he was still exhausted.

"Do you have any leads?"

"I do, actually." He noticed a pair of people quickly approaching. "Hey, I'm really sorry, but I have to go. There's, uh, something's come up." He didn't wait for her response before he hung up and started to walk the other direction. A glance behind him showed that the pair was gaining on him. He stopped and crossed his arms. "Is there something you need?" He asked in Russian.

"Who were you just calling?" They demanded.

"I was talking to my mother," he snapped. "Why do you want to know?"

"We're with SHIELD. Are you sure that was your mother, Steve?" One sad. She had dark brown hair scraped back into a tight bun.

"Who the hell is Steve?" He glared at them. "I would suggest you go and find this Steve instead of messing with me."

"You're under arrest." The other agent started towards him, but was instantly stopped by a hard fist to the face.

"Do I have to ask again? Leave me alone." Rogers turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the two agents to recover. He hailed a taxi and rode to a nearby hotel where he purchased a room. His night was spent searching for the other locations that Bucky had been found. Sleep wasn't something he could take the time to do right now.

The tide didn't roll in for another four days. Each day he had spent in a different spot, simply watching for his friend. Each day had been a wasted, fruitless effort. He had paid for a different hotel room each night in order to avoid any risk of being found by SHIELD. They were already tracking him, he knew that. The payphone call had been a mistake, but he felt no compunction for his decision. The fifth night was when his strength gave out. He stumbled into the hotel room, hardly able to put one foot in front of the other. Exhaustion always hit around this time, and he told himself that he just had to power through it. If Tony could stay up for days on end, then he could too. His fingers were clumsy as he opened an energy drink and took a long drink. He felt angry and frustrated that he hadn't found anything yet.

A quick check on his laptop showed that nothing more had been updated. He closed it a little more forcefully than he should have and tossed it onto the other bed. He had given up on watching the TV days ago. All the news stations were talking about his disappearance. A news reporter was on screen when he turned it on anyways. She was talking about some terror attack in Egypt, but the subject soon changed to the Avengers. It showed a shot of Natasha and Tony exiting a building, surrounded by paparazzi. Stark was probably loving the publicity, using it as an opportunity to look good in the public eye. As if being a superhero didn't already do that. Rogers rolled his eyes as the shot switched to a reporter shouting in the crowd, asking what had happened. The billionaire spouted some crap about how Steve had been struggling lately. And then the TV was black. Steve threw the remote at the wall and threw his drink away. He wasn't in the mood for this—hadn't been in a while. Being sleep deprived was throwing him for a loop. His moods were constantly in swing, and he was either unrealistically hopeful or impossibly pessimistic.

Rogers flopped back on the bed and covered his face with both hands. He was too out of it to care as he picked up the bedside phone and dialed Natasha's number. It was nearly one in the morning, he noticed. His watches had become later and later.

"Hello?" She picked up the phone.

"Hey," he noticed that his voice was hardly more than a tired croak.

"Has the prodigal son returned?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he felt a little better listening to her voice. "Just… just talk for a while. I don't care what about, I just really don't want to focus right now."

"Okay, yeah, I can do that." She immediately started talking about Clint's latest home renovation that he had been telling her about. That was one of the things that Steve adored about her—she understood and didn't pry. She had her own demons, and she knew that it wasn't always easy to talk about. "When he came in he said that he had decided to add on a sunroom to the back of the house, and I asked him why the heck he was doing that because he had been talking about leaving the house alone for a while. Of course, being Clint, he had no real explanation other than the fact that he was bored. I swear, by the time this is all done, he's going to have a Barton Tower built out in the middle of nowhere, and instead of living with Tony we're all going to go on vacation to this huge skyscraper that's got a farm at the bottom of it." He yawned and made a noise in agreement.

"Have I ever told you about the time that he bought his first chicken? He kept the thing on his shoulder just about all the time and fed it whatever he was eating, which sometimes included chicken. That dumb bird, he named it his Hawk and trained it to attack anyone he wanted. It eventually went crazy, maybe from the forced cannibalism, and he had to set it free in the woods. He thinks it's still alive, but Laura told me that she found it dead outside of the house. An actual Hawk had been eating it. His poor kids are still terrified of that chicken, and I'm fairly sure that's what he uses for scary bedtime stories." She paused. "Steve, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Okay, just checking. Do you want me to keep talking?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. His eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. He had the sense to reach over and set an alarm on the clock. He couldn't sleep like he had on the first night.

Rogers dozed off to the sound of her voice.

He was drawn out of the darkness by a beeping next to his head. He was still exhausted when he sat up, but it wasn't as bad as before. The tide had, surprisingly, stayed out. Steve noticed the phone lying on his pillow and sighed. He desperately wanted to as Nat to come and help, but he feared at the same time that she might distract him. No, he would use her as a driving force. She was waiting on him. He could see her again once he had found Bucky.

He checked his laptop again and then immediately closed it as someone knocked on the door.

"Housekeeping," someone said. Rogers called back that he was still inside and listened as the cart rolled away down the hall. He was still feeling jumpy.

It seemed as if no one could find his friend. Hydra had no new information on him, and he hadn't seen the soldier at all.

Steve went about his morning routine and packed all of his stuff before leaving the building for good. He walked down the street and decided to return to his first location. The coffee shop was the same as ever as he entered it and ordered an espresso. There was someone in the corner playing on an old piano, but the place was empty otherwise. Something about the pianist seemed familiar, but his sleepless, caffeine addled brain couldn't put the pieces together. He realized that he was staring and suddenly pulled himself out of his thoughts and left.

The bench he had sat on before was taken, so he chose to walk back into the shop and watch from there. He could have sworn he saw Bucky several times, but realized that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Steve shook his head and took a long drink of his coffee. He couldn't go on like this forever, but he also felt as if he couldn't stop. It was his responsibility to find his friend, and his own wellbeing was second to that responsibility. He could catch up on sleep later.

But, he thought, if he lost his life or Buck's because of sleep deprivation, then he would have done all of this in vain. He thought about it for a while, but soon lost his train of thought. It would have been a funny irony to him if he had the right mind to realize it; thinking about how losing sleep was bad and then losing his thought because of a lack of sleep.

Another two days passed with no results. He was truly starting to wonder if Barnes had quit town. Rogers returned yet again to the coffee shop and stayed there until closing time. The owner kicked him out, leaving him dazed on the street. His former bench was open, so he decided to sit there for a while. It wasn't long before the pianist left. Steve watched him go, still wondering why he looked so familiar. He got up and decided to follow the guy for a little while. It couldn't hurt anything, could it?

The pianist walked for a few blocks, keeping a careful watch out. He cut across the street and into an alley. Rogers followed blindly, not caring if he knew he was being followed. Steve caught a quick glimpse of metal along the man's neck and snapped out of his sleepless stupor. He sped up and tried to catch up with him, but stopped as the guy turned into an apartment building and disappeared. The soldier felt a tinge of hope fill his chest as he took note of the building's address and started his nightly search for a new hotel. He may have caught the scent again.

 **Apologies for a shorter chapter than normal, but thanks again for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

Steve couldn't sleep out of sheer elation. He was positive that the man he had seen was Bucky. The next day was spent watching the coffee shop, and the day after that. However, he began to see the same three faces everywhere he went: a trio of people that would be sitting on the curb, chatting in the coffee shop, resting in the hotel lobby. They would glance at him in a way that seemed casual—which would have been normal if they weren't following him. More than once he saw the butt of a gun protruding from the back of their jeans or a knife clipped to a belt.

He walked into the coffee shop on the third day. It was named "The Hermit," which seemed very fitting as the tiny building was sandwiched between two larger ones.

"Morning," he said to the owner as he approached the counter. "One grande hot chocolate, please." Rogers fished the correct amount of rubles out of his pocket and handed them over.

"Been seeing you a lot lately," the shopkeeper said. He was quietly putting the money in the register. "Are you new around here?" His eyes were sharp as he watched Steve.

"Yeah, just moved in a couple weeks ago. Nice thing you've got going on here," the soldier motioned at the shop. His Russian had become far better over the past several days, and he was nearly capable of carrying on a full conversation.

"Thank you," the man took his hot chocolate from his coworker and handed it to Rogers. "Have a good day," he smiled.

"You too," the captain nodded and chose to sit inside. It was becoming colder and colder as the winter went on. He just had to wait for the pianist to come into work. His mind was set on approaching him as he was leaving the place.

His target never came. Steve spent the entire day in the shop, but the man never came in. He chewed his lip as he left the place, but chose to remain hopeful. People took days off and sometimes couldn't come to work. That was all it could be—any other option was quickly shoved out of his mind and discarded just like the empty coffee cup he carried.

His three followers were in the hotel lobby as he walked in. It was one of his last options that he hadn't stayed in yet, though it seemed as if the three people already knew where he was going to stay. They were becoming bolder and bolder, now openly staring at him instead of the previous cautious glances.

The next day brought the whole world crashing down on him. As he was walking out of the hotel and into the street he was grabbed and hauled into an alley. He started to fight, throwing a punch and feeling the jolt down his arm as it connected, but he couldn't escape the blow to his head or the taser shoved into his side. Something between a scream and a groan tore from his throat as the electricity coursed through his body. The asphalt suddenly felt cold and rough against his cheek. The boot on his throat, however, didn't.

"What do you know about James Barnes?" One of his attackers growled in his ear.

"I don't know anything," he ground out. "Let me go,"

"You know something!" The man shouted, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. "You've been following him for days now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve tried to come up with a plan to get away, but he was coming up blank.

"You're either going to spill the beans, or I'm going to spill your blood. You know who he is? How did you meet him?"

"Who is James Barnes? What makes you think I'm following him?" The soldier played dumb.

"The Winter Soldier. You tracked him here from America, didn't you? You're not worth much when it comes to speaking Russian, I know that."

Rogers kept his eyes open as the pressure on his windpipe increased. The bruises there from Tony's chokehold were just healing. "Let me up and I'll tell you," his voice was low. A pause ensued, and then the weight was lifted. He stood, rubbing his neck. "Thanks. Sorry, but I'm not going to tell you anything." His foot smashed into the man's chest, sending him flying. The crackled of electricity barely warned him before the taser was on him again, making it hard to do anything as the volts scorched through his body. Steve powered through it and swatted the thing away before throwing a shoulder and knocking his assailant back. Only one was left standing, turning a baseball bat in his hand.

"You're not like us, are you?" He narrowed his eyes. "I guess I won't be able to find out what you are, though." The bat whistled through the air and would have cracked into his head if he hadn't put up an arm and blocked the blow. It did, however, crack into his arm. Pain radiated from what was probably a broken forearm and made his left hand useless. Rogers groaned and swept the guy's feet out from under him and then straightened up, scanning the area for threats. He picked up the baseball bat and swiftly turned to meet the barrel of a gun pointed at his face. His grip on the bat tightened as he became still. Any wrong moves would prove to be fatal.

Steve dropped the bat and put his hands up, ignoring the triumphant look on his opponent's face as he lowered the gun and pulled a pair of zip ties out of his pocket. The plastic dug into his wrists as he was restrained, though he knew he could snap right through them.

"So, who do you work for?" He asked as a tie slid closed around his ankles.

"Hydra," the man never saw the kick coming. His head snapped back as Rogers broke the ties right off and smashed his foot into his jaw. The soldier immediately turned and ran.

His forearm was still aching when he walked into the coffee shop. A quick order and glance around put him back on the street. He wanted an escape at all times, and this was where he was safest. Steve decided to call Natasha to try and relax a little.

"Steve?" She answered on the second ring.

"Hey," he noticed that his voice was still destroyed from having his windpipe crushed.

"What's going on? Your voice sounds like crap." She immediately asked.

"I got into a bit of a tight squeeze, but it's nothing to worry about." He cast a wary glance around him as he spoke. "I've had worse."

"Steve," she sounded exasperated, "how bad is it, really? Not just your voice, but everything else. Tell me what's going on."

He sighed and leaned against the wall of the phone booth. "I don't know. I think I found him, but now he isn't anywhere that he used to be. I think some Hydra goons tried to jump me—they didn't know who I was."

"How bad did they hurt you? And how do you know that it's him?"

She was always so sensible. "My arm may be broken? I don't know what else. And… I'm not sure." Now that he thought about it, he had no idea if the guy was Bucky or not. The metal he had seen could have been any number of things, and there were plenty of men who had brunette hair and a taller build. He was running on nothing but hope.

"Oh God, Steve." She paused and he nearly started to speak again. "You're going to get yourself killed."

A quick glance around showed several people approaching him from all directions. He hung the phone up, wondering if Natasha had been correct. Adrenaline blocked out the pain from his arm and throat as he dodged the first punch. What he couldn't dodge was the bullet that flew straight through his shoulder. The crack of the gun followed a split second later, echoing off of the walls and filling his ears with a ringing silence. Someone came from behind and boxed his ears, creating unimaginable pressure in his skull. He nearly crumpled to the ground. A crowd was gathering at the edges of the street, full of shocked faces. All hope of finding his friend died in his chest as he saw the man who could have been Barnes. He bore no facial resemblance to the Winter Soldier.

Steve let himself be pummeled to the ground. Everything that had happened was in vain and had left him an empty, deflated husk. It felt good to let go as the world became dim and the waters swept him away.

Opening his eyes sent needles shooting into his brain. The light hurt, making his headache even worse than it had been. His left side felt off as he sat up. Something was strangely empty. He soon realized that it was the lack of sound. Nothing was reaching his left ear, and a quick touch came back wet and sticky. Another cracked glance at the world showed a tiny cell. He reached for his bag, which had been thrown on the floor. Its contents, for whatever reason, hadn't been touched. Rogers pulled out his jacket and a blanket and pulled them over himself as he laid back down. He didn't feel like trying anymore. He just wanted to disappear.

Steve ignored when the door was opened and a tray was slid in. He had given up. He ignored when people came in and checked his vitals. Someone obviously still wanted him alive as he was forced to eat after a time.

"Tell me who I am." A quiet voice came from behind him one day. "Because I don't know who I am." Rogers opened his eyes slowly. "Steven Rogers, you ass, look at me." That got his attention. The soldier rolled over and almost wished he hadn't. The Winter Soldier stood there, leaning against the wall and watching him with dark eyes. He sat up and gaped at his friend. "Look, I don't have all the time in the world. I just want to know something about myself."

"You grew up in Brooklyn." Steve quickly bent and dug the flash drives out of his bag. He held them out to the other. "Take these—they'll tell you more than I can. God, you're here," he couldn't help smiling.

"Yeah, I've been here. Where have you been?" Barnes took the drives and turned them in his hand.

"Looking for you."

"Well, you found me. Actually, Hydra found both of us, but that's beside the point."

"Any way to get out?"

"Not really. I have free run of the place because I'm so-called working for them, but they're really just keeping us hidden. There's no way out without having to fight about a thousand heavily armed and well-trained men." Bucky sounded bored. "Nothing you can't handle, right?"

"Of course," Rogers pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling. This was nothing like he had expected their meeting to be. He remembered something and quickly dug it out of his bag as well. He held out the picture of them. "You may want this, too." It was snatched out of his hand, and his friend looked at it almost hungrily. He was obviously more interested than he acted.

"Thanks." Barnes awkwardly stood there for a moment, nodded, and then left. Steve sighed as he stood up and started to pace. Knowing his friend was here and aware had left him restless. They had to get out, but he had no idea what to do.

It was, by his loose judgement, another three days before Bucky returned. He stood in the same place and stared at his friend. "Who was I? I mean—before this all happened." His eyes were haunted.

"My best friend. You watched out for me, Buck."

"Were you… sick?" He looked like he was trying to think of something. "You weren't always like this."

"No," Rogers shook his head. "I liked to pick fights with bigger guys, and you'd always pull me out. We were like brothers. You always had friends and a girl on your arm."

The other furrowed his brow and eventually ran a hand through his hair. He had cut it to look more like it originally had, but it was definitely more wild and untamed than it had been.

"What happened to your friends?" He finally said. "The Avengers."

"I left them."

"Why?"

"To find you. I can't leave my best friend behind, can I?" He grinned. "I know how much you love Hydra and all, but you can't possibly want to stay here forever."

"I think I remember now—you had a terrible sense of humor." Barnes kept a straight face. "Call them up here and make them bust you out."

"I kind of can't, because I attacked several of them and the agents they sent after me."

"They'll come get you."

"They have no reason to."

"If I remember correctly, you had a girl with you in DC." He arched an eyebrow as Steve felt his ears burning. "Not only that, but this is Hydra's largest remaining base. They'll want to come and trash this, even if they decide they don't want you." He crossed his arms. "If you risked your life for my sorry ass, then they'll risk their lives for your slightly less sorry one. You seem to be the one with memory loss here—I tried to kill you and yet here you are, searching for me."

Steve rolled his eyes. "That's more like your old self."

"I don't think he's gone forever. I just think he's temporarily lost." Bucky pressed his lips together. "You got any way to contact them?"

Five minutes later, Steve pressed send on the message. He had typed as much as he and Buck could come up with, and then sent it. Stark would be able to track it.

"And now we wait." Rogers cracked his knuckles.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve had a lot of time to think about his decisions as he paced the tiny cell. He was restless now, his formerly listless eyes turned feverish. What would his actions lead to? The council, if not Fury himself, would probably remove him from his position before he even returned, if he hadn't already been. And yet they needed him—he was an American symbol. It would be a huge mistake on SHIELD's part if they took him out, which would be another one on top of many. The issues with Hydra lately had already disgraced the organization.

But, then again, he was leading them straight to a Hydra facility. He had also found Bucky, who had invaluable tech and skill. What Stark wouldn't give to get his hands on cybernetics like he had… Rogers shook his head. He wasn't going to let SHIELD or Tony exploit his friend if he could help it.

A yawn broke through his thoughts and he tried to think of the last time he had slept. It was days ago when he had called Natasha. Had he ruined what they had? He chose not to think about that aspect of it. He had found his best friend and completed what he needed to do. The rest he could figure out as he went. For now, he had to wait until the Avengers came. If they did.

His thoughts were starting to move faster and faster, growing progressively more negative and hateful as they flew by. The waters were creeping up from waist deep to his neck, threatening to drag him under. He was a coward for what he had done. He should have stayed back and done his job instead of running out after dead ends. It had been sheer luck that he found Bucky, and even that luck was no good. He could be leading the Avengers straight into a trap and get all of them killed, followed by his own death. Hydra wasn't going to keep him forever. He raked a hand through his hair, clenching it in his fist and gritting his teeth so hard that he feared they might crack. His eyes burned as he squeezed them shut. It was all too much too much too much. To anyone else, he might have appeared to be spinning out of control. In reality, he had already lost it all.

And then it all washed out of him. The waters completely receded, leaving him standing on his own. He released his hair and tried to smooth it out, feeling like he weighed a thousand pounds. His reserves were depleted, physically and emotionally. He stood like that until his body found its way to the bed. He laid down and stared at the ceiling, his mind blank. He felt too empty to sleep. Bucky eventually walked in and sat down at the foot of the bed. He had been called out of the room a while ago, though Steve had no idea if it had been a couple of hours or a couple of days.

"Time to go," Buck said as the building shook. He pulled a knife from his boot and stood. Steve followed, grabbing his bag and slinging it over one shoulder. The two of them ran from the room and down the hall, taking turns as Barnes directed. They skidded around one corner as gunshots rang out. The sound echoed through the hall, making it so that they couldn't tell where it was coming from. A doorway on their left led them into a wide hangar that was currently going up in flames. A quinjet was floating in the gaping opening that an explosion had ripped in the ceiling, and its guns immediately fixed on them. Rogers shoved his friend to the side and dove after him as the buzz of machine guns filled their ears.

A man was sent flying past their hiding spot, blood spurting from his mouth. Teeth clattered at their feet. Bucky immediately turned as something glanced off of his left arm, shooting sparks toward his face. A blinking red arrow was in front of them. He leapt to his feet, hauling Steve with him as he ran. They could feel their own teeth rattle as an explosion went off behind them. However, to be away from the arrow was to be out in the open again. Barnes paused and seemed to calculate for a moment before throwing his knife as hard as he could. A familiar cry sounded a moment later.

"What was that?" Rogers asked as they dove into a side room and ran deeper into the building.

"Archer. I didn't kill him." His friend stopped in front of a door and pressed his hand to a sensor. The doors slid open, revealing the armory. He jogged the length of the room and smashed his fist through a wall of glass. Shards flew everywhere, making Steve wish he had his shield more than ever. He blinked as one almost identical to his appeared at his feet. One of the few differences was the silver paint job and red star in the center.

"Made for Captain Hydra, if he ever existed." The Winter Soldier looked around and then picked up a shard of glass. He launched it at the doorway, followed by a scream and then silence. "He's about to exist. You need to blend in, and this is how. They're going to try to kill you, but this will cover most of your face." Buck pulled out a black suit with red accents. "Suit up, Cap. It's time for some roleplay." Rogers looked at him questioningly, and then sucked up his reservations about wearing the thing. It had protective plating and was better for combat than his jeans and sweatshirt were.

Captain Hydra walked out of the armory a couple of minutes later, followed by the Winter Soldier. Both had masks covering the lower halves of their faces. Hydra men who would have attacked them instead stood reverently to the side as the two strode down the hall.

"They're going to kill us," the captain muttered as they moved back toward the hangar and the main fighting.

"Eh, better than these guys. We've got a chance of recognition with your friends." Barnes shrugged. Both of them flinched as a roar echoed from where they were headed.

"Not with the Hulk, we don't." Steve whipped around and held up his shield as a high pitched buzz came from behind them. The laser fired a moment later, bouncing off of the shield and sending a jolt down his broken arm. Iron Man stood at the end of the hall, palm raised. Bucky had hidden around the corner.

"Where is Rogers?" Stark shouted as the rocket launchers on his shoulders deployed. His voice sounded strange and off-center. He was suddenly cut off as a rocket slammed into his side and knocked him into the wall. It was no good to be stuck here with him, as they had no easy escape. The two friends turned and ran toward the hangar. The Hulk could—hopefully—be avoided. Sirens finally began to blare as they entered the wide space again.

"Hydra never was good with alarms!" Bucky shouted over the din. It was almost loud enough to drown everything else out. He threw an elbow back and spun around, slamming his foot into a guy's head. He had been hiding beside the door as they walked in. Steve blocked several bullets and then hurled the shield, watching as it bounced off of a wall and into his attacker's back. It eventually flew back to his hand. He bashed it into another goon's face, wincing as his arm nearly gave out, and used another as a springboard, flipping through the air and landing on a third man.

A blur suddenly whipped past them, throwing him off of his feet. Barnes, however, caught Pietro. His feet dug into the concrete and started to slide back as he shoved Pietro to the ground, his left hand on the kid's right shoulder. He hit the ground hard and went limp.

"Jesus," Buck growled as he punched one guy and threw a knife at another. He had weapons hidden everywhere, though Rogers had only seen him draw the first knife out of his boot. The others just seemed to materialize. "I don't think he saw that coming."

Steve couldn't help but smile at the unintentional irony.

He felt better than he had in days as he simply became lost in the fight. His punches, kicks, and throws seemed to meld into one blur, though he was heavily favoring his left arm. The two of them fought in perfect sync, taking out man after man. Rogers barely caught a glimpse of a black form disappearing through a nearby doorway and took off after it. His friend followed close behind, and they soon found themselves chasing after a tiny scuff down the hall or a foot disappearing through a doorway. Barnes said something about cell block, but Steve couldn't catch everything he said. It was too loud, yet too quiet at the same time. They seemed to be the only people around, other than their target.

They were soon faced with the hallway of cells that Steve had been kept in. This time, however, there was no glimpse of a person to guide them. The place was far too quiet as they began checking cells. Rogers ducked into his former room and immediately felt someone drop down onto his back. He felt hands around his throat and legs restraining his arms at his sides. Whoever it was was using their weight to haul backwards, putting their full body into closing off his windpipe. He stumbled back and into the hallway, reaching up to pull his assailant off. He couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't breathe. Panic closed in on him as he couldn't shake the person off. They were suddenly on the ground, him and Bucky and whoever it was, fighting and struggling and trying to just inhale. Black was closing in on his vision as he clawed at the two hands.

"Let go! Natasha, release him!" The scream was muffled, though the pressure immediately lifted. He yanked the face mask down and rolled to his hands and knees as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. His throat ached like nothing else as he sucked in oxygen, feeling immediate relief as his vision cleared. A hand was on his back, cold and harsh. Why did this always happen? Steve eventually stood again, leaning heavily on the wall. Wanda was standing right next to him, staring at him concernedly. She shook her head and brushed her hair out of her face.

"You are alright, yes?" She tipped his head back and looked at his neck.

"I'm fine," his voice was broken and raspy. All of his little aches and pains were showing through his adrenaline-fueled haze, becoming one symphony of hurt that rang through his body. She stared at him, the red light in her eyes brightening for a moment and then fading.

"Come on, lovebirds." Buck set off down the hall. "We need to get out of here, now that they know you." He said over his shoulder. Rogers shot him a look as he pushed off of the wall and followed his friend. Maximoff said nothing, though she looked worried.

They passed through the building again, finally coming out in the same hangar as before. The quinjet that had shot at them before was in a wrecked heap on the floor of the place, and there was the acrid stench of smoke and gasoline in the air. Wanda took off at a run for the gaping hole in the door, and the two friends went after her. She suddenly screamed something and a bolt of magic left her hand, travelling toward something to their right.

An arrow suddenly erupted from Steve's chest. He stumbled and saw that Barnes and Maximoff were both staring at him, and then their eyes shifted to something else behind him. The world became white as he turned, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. It didn't help. Everything was too bright in his failing eyes.

The white finally faded and he found himself in a dark space. He turned slowly, taking everything in. His life seemed to be spread out around him in scenes; the battle for New York, growing up in Brooklyn, losing Bucky, fighting him in DC, falling into the arctic ocean, and the current fight taking place in the hangar. He walked toward the Brooklyn scene and found that he could step inside, but couldn't do anything. There he was, young and weak, trying to start a fight and getting hauled away by Barnes. He tried to say something, but no words would come out. He was stuck in between, left without a word and yet still inside the world. Rogers turned away and started toward the fight in New York. Old wounds and hurts began to show up on his body and he realized that they were from that battle. He could feel everything that had happened, but he couldn't interfere at all. The pain faded as he stepped back to where he had started. His feet were oddly silent as he pressed into the hangar. Everything in him lit up like fire.

He walked around the building, seeing Natasha trying to calm down the Hulk. Jealousy started to sting in his chest as the green faded and Bruce came back to the world. Steve grit his teeth as the fire became an inferno. He desperately wanted to return to the empty place, but he couldn't. The sounds of metal on metal behind him drew his attention and he saw Bucky fighting against the other Avengers like an animal. He had the shield clipped to his right arm and was striking out with his left as he stood over a heap on the floor. That heap was him. Wanda was hunkered down next to him, cradling his head and whispering something. Her head snapped up and glowing red eyes locked onto him.

Rogers stared at her for a moment, and then directed his attention back to the fight. He couldn't help, he knew that much. Even if he did return to his body, it wouldn't help. The fire had burnt up most of his body, leaving him useless and weak. He shook his head as Natasha dove into the fight, trying to knock Barnes to the floor. His friend refused to go down and instead threw her back to where she had started. He whipped around and blocked a laser from Stark and then slammed his fist into Pietro's side as he tried to dart past. The twin was sent flying as his momentum was driven to the side. He skidded to a stop on the floor and pushed himself back to his feet. Another laser was deflected, and this time Steve could feel the heat of it. Wanda was still staring at him, and this time he understood. She could see him. Her fingers were right above his forehead, waving in odd ways and giving off a dark red energy. Was she showing this to him? He was torn as he stood there, desperately wanting to return to Nat and Buck, but he also desperately wanted to stay where he was and return to the empty, painless place outside. The fire had left him in ashes to be blown away by the wind.

And yet he went back.


	8. Chapter 8

He jerked awake, feeling everything in a whole new way. What had been an all-consuming fire was now several different kinds of pain that formed a painting across his body. Where his forearm and ankle throbbed, his head pounded. Where his eyes stung, his chest burned. None of the pain could be truly pinpointed, either. It just _hurt_.

"Stop!" Wanda was yelling, her eyes flashing. "Listen to me!" A wave of red flowed from her hands, making all of the others stop where they were. Bucky kept his guard up, his head constantly swiveling and every strand of muscle in his body tensed. Tendrils of energy were emanating from Maximoff's fingers, finding the others and passing through them. Each of them reacted in their own way: Natasha turned and walked away, Pietro seemed rooted to the spot, Tony tried to act unfazed, and Clint rubbed his neck and looked in the other direction. Bruce ran up and dropped down next to him, immediately trying to start tending to his wounds.

"God, Steve, you really did it this time," Barnes muttered as he looked his friend over. Rogers desperately wanted to fall back into oblivion—practically needed to, but he couldn't. He just stared at the ceiling, trying to keep his breathing steady. He sucked in a particularly sharp breath as Banner pressed a hand to his stomach, touching nerves that seemed to explode.

"This is what you ran away for?" Stark suddenly shouted, waving an armored hand at Bucky. "Hydra's plaything?"

Silence fell over them as an almost vulnerable expression crossed Buck's face. Steve felt fury rising inside of him, blurring his vision red. The Maximoff twins both stared at the billionaire, one looking hurt and the other angry. Pietro finally moved, walking forward and shoving a finger into the other man's chest.

"Do not speak of us that way." He said, his voice low. "You have no right—absolutely none." His face was dark as Tony swatted his hand down. The brunette glanced around as if looking for help. He found nothing.

"Fine, fine, I know when I'm not wanted." Stark turned and took off, soon disappearing. Maximoff rolled his shoulders and took off at a run after him, saying something about an accident before his words were swept away. Clint had walked over to talk to Natasha during the argument and had apparently contacted SHIELD as a quinjet soared in a few minutes later. Several agents ran off of the thing with a gurney, which they loaded Rogers onto. He felt the tiny prick of an IV, and then nothing at all.

Five weeks later, as soon as he was out of his hospital bed and cleared to do as he wished, Fury appeared in his room. "The council would like to speak to you." He followed wordlessly, feeling his stomach tying itself in knots. This was what would define his future. The black suburban seemed to crawl towards their destination, and then he was standing in front of the massive screens. He stood at attention, saluting each of them as they appeared.

"At ease, Captain." His stance immediately widened and he tucked his hands behind his back. "I'm sure that you are aware of your purpose in this world, which is to protect mankind and assist in maintaining the peace. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir." Rogers stared up at him, his heart pounding. His stomach had practically collapsed in on itself at this point.

"So you will admit that you completely stepped out of line when you attacked your own teammates and took refuge in Moscow?"

Steve could feel shame burning behind his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Not only did you attack Tony Stark with the obvious intent to kill, but you also attacked several SHIELD agents on a number of occasions."

"I did not have any intent to kill Tony Stark." He was indignant.

"Captain Rogers, did I say you could speak?"

"No, sir, but I feel as if this was a complete misunderstanding. I had no intent to kill Stark. I was trying to get into Moscow. The actions I carried out were only to get away from them." He tipped his head back to look him directly in the face. It was a subtle but complete act of rebellion.

The councilman narrowed his eyes. "You evaded arrest as well. And, after your capture, chose to join Hydra. We see no reason to keep you as an Avenger after this stunt, Captain." Another spoke. She sounded as if she regretted the decision.

"May I explain myself?" He chose to be more respectful towards her. It was in his nature.

"No, you may not. You are dismissed from SHIELD and from the Avengers project and you have until the end of this week to get out." Steve felt his throat tighten as he saluted them and turned on his heel to leave. His footsteps were the only sound in the room as he left. The halls were silent as he walked to the front of the building. A suburban was waiting for him. He stepped inside and rode with only his thoughts to keep him company.

He made his way back up to his room and laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what to do. The only thing that had worked out was finding Bucky, and his friend still wasn't settled in. Stark would probably kick him out as soon as he was gone, and then they would be right back where they started. He swallowed hard and scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Everything had fallen apart. Natasha hadn't spoken to him since their last phone call, he was no longer in service, his friend would soon be back out on the streets, and he was out of luck. Nothing was going to change the council's mind—it would be seen as a moment of weakness. He blinked and sat up as someone stepped off of the elevator. Barnes appeared in his doorway a moment later.

The two of them watched each other for a minute, saying nothing. Buck finally spoke. "Better start packing," he opened a drawer and dumped it onto the floor.

"I have until the end of the week," Steve pushed himself back down and closed his eyes.

"And? You have a ton of crap." Bucky fished a bag out from under the bed and started shoving clothing into it. "So, what did the council say?"

"Not much. They just listed off the things I had done and said I was dismissed. They hardly even let me try to explain myself."

"That's it? They just railed on you and let you go?"

He knew his friend was trying to cheer him up. "Yeah. Nothing left to say." There was a lot left to say.

"That's a load of bullshit." Barnes sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. "You're their poster child, Steve. Hell, even Hydra wanted to have you. Every little kid wants to be you, and they're just throwing you out? You showed them where one of the last Hydra bases was!" He slapped the floor. "What a bunch of assholes!"

"Look, it's okay. I did a lot of stuff I shouldn't have, and this is what I deserve."

"You're going to just roll over and take that? God, Steve, what happened to the old you?" Bucky stood up and started to pace. "You wouldn't have gone down without a fight before, and now you're just showing your belly and running off."

The captain sat up and scowled at his friend. "That man froze in the ice seventy years ago."

"And yet you're almost the same in every other way." His friend shook his head and raked his hair back out of his face.

"I tried, okay? I tried to tell them!" Rogers felt like a kid again, whining and crying. "They didn't listen!"

"Then do something about it!" They were shouting, the clothes on the floor forgotten. "Don't just sit here and wallow like you did back in Hydra, you wuss!"

"God dammit, Bucky!" Steve shoved himself off of the bed and punched the wall, ignoring the sting in his knuckles as he broke the sheetrock. He knew he needed to calm down; they fed off of each other. But he couldn't help it. "I cannot believe you! I come and risk everything to save you, lose it all, and now all you're doing is telling me how much I screwed up!" He jabbed a finger into his friend's chest.

"That is entirely untrue, and you know it." Barnes shoved him back. "You didn't screw up, and I'm telling you to go tell the people who think you did that you're innocent instead of just giving up."

"Innocent? Stealing thirty thousand from Stark, attacking him and the others, evading them and nearly killing several SHIELD agents, and then acting like I joined Hydra is innocent? I did mess up," he muttered, "I messed up by thinking that my ends could justify my means."

Bucky crossed his arms. "Your ends made up for your means. You practically destroyed Hydra again."

Rogers set his jaw. "I'm going to go talk to Fury."

"There it is," a grin spread across the other's face, "there's the Steve I know." He rolled his eyes and walked out, tailed by Barnes. They made their way back to SHIELD headquarters, talking about how things had changed as they went. Neither one wanted to talk about what might happen when they actually approached the director.

Steve glanced up as he saw the quinjet zip overhead in the direction of the tower. Nat and Clint had been out for several weeks on a mission, which meant that they were probably riding in the jet. He would have to find them when he got back.

"That your girl?" Buck followed his gaze.

"Not sure if she's really mine," he cast his eyes down. "It's been a long time since I talked to her, and the last time we met it wasn't on good terms."

"Oh, that one." His friend smiled and shook his head. "That'll work out."

"Sure," Rogers had no faith. He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I guess I'll talk to her later." His eyes followed the steps in front of them that led to the SHIELD headquarters. He felt like a pig being led to the chopping block as he walked up the steps.

He walked into Nick's office and sat down in front of his desk, Bucky following and taking the other seat. His eyes were constantly staring out the window, however. Fury turned to face the two of them.

"Yes?" He sounded expectant, as usual.

"I was never given a chance to explain myself to the council." Steve leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "I need to tell you what actually happened."

"Rogers, I have received a full report of what happened. You're guilty." He pressed his lips together. "Tell me."

"I chose to go find Buck because I saw the information in the two flash drives you made us go retrieve. Hydra was going to get him back, and I didn't want that to happen again, so I left during the mission outside of Moscow. Tony tried to stop me, so I did what was necessary to get away. I had no intent to kill him or anyone else," Steve took a breath, "and I will also admit that I did evade arrest, for the same reason that I took Stark down. However, I was able to lead the Avengers to one of the last standing Hydra bases."

"That doesn't tell me anything about why you joined Hydra." He knew he had Fury's full attention.

"He didn't—neither one of us did." Bucky spoke up, still staring out the window. "I had to go back because the cybernetics require a recharge, and he came in because they caught him. We got out when his team showed up, and I had him put on the Captain Hydra suit to avoid getting mobbed by the Hydra goons. We helped fight them off in the hangar, and we have witnesses. The Maximoff girl saw just about everything."

"She always does," Nick glanced down as he adjusted his sleeves. "I'll speak to the council again."

"Thank you," Rogers felt relief wash over him. He at least had Fury on his side, and that could go a long way.

"Watch yourself, Captain." The director murmured as the two left. They made their way back to the tower, stopping on the rec floor. Barton was sitting on the counter chugging a bottle of water.

"Look who it is," he nodded at the two of them. "The two prodigal sons."

"Yeah, whatever." Steve walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. He noticed that Bucky was almost viciously scratching at his left arm as he sat at the bar. "What are you doing?"

His friend immediately stopped and looked up. "What?"

"Scratching," he pointed at the other's arm. Clint looked over.

"What's the dog doing now? Do we need to check him for fleas?" The comment would have pissed Barnes off in most situations, but it seemed like the two of them had become friends as soon as they met. It wasn't surprising to Steve in the least, as both of them had terrible senses of humor and enough sarcasm to take them to the moon and back.

"Geez, can't I scratch an itch?" Buck acted hurt for a moment, and then shrugged. "Phantom pains," he explained.

"What about phantom pains?" Natasha asked as she stepped off of the elevator. Her gaze carefully avoided Steve as she scanned the room. It was pure habit for her, as Rogers had noticed. Every room, every time.

"Barnes gets them, so he scratches himself like a dog." Clint hopped off of the counter as she reached for a cabinet behind him. He looked at Steve and gave him a questioning look. He obviously had no idea that the two of them hadn't spoken in forever. Silence fell as she pulled out a granola bar and started back toward the elevator. Rogers shoved himself up and followed her, barely sticking his hand into the door before it closed. He walked in and pressed the button to close the doors.

"What's going on?" He asked, leaning against the doors. "Jarvis, stop the elevator," he said. Their downward motion immediately halted. "I mean, I know you've been gone, but what happened? To us?"

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably. "I don't know. You changed, you left, you came back, and I nearly killed you." She swallowed. "I messed up."

He bit his lip and forced himself to stay where he was. "I should have told you," he shook his head. "I should have told you," he repeated.

"Do you really think we would be in a different place now if you had?" She spat. "You did tell me. After the fact."

He cast his gaze to the floor. "Nearly killing me is beside the point. I don't blame you for any of that." He blamed himself. If he hadn't left, none of this would be the screwed up thing it was. But, on the other hand, Bucky would be lost again.

"I blame myself," her voice was almost too quiet to be heard. Maybe he didn't hear it at all.

"It doesn't matter," he flicked his hair out of his face, the red tendrils a reminder of what he had done. "It's done, it's over."

"You know it isn't that easy." She sighed, putting her hands in her jacket pockets. It was the striped one that she had worn when they were running from SHIELD. He loved that hoodie.

"I know." Nothing was that easy. Nothing was black and white, and this seemed to be all gray and black truths. "But I do know that you didn't mess up. Not to me."

A bitter smile crossed her face and her gray stare met his blue one. "I thought I could earn your love," she murmured, "but I can't. Not after that,"

"What?" He stepped forward, unable to stay still any longer.

"I'm not good enough, Steve." She seemed to shrink into the wall, her eyes searching. "I tried, but I couldn't make it."

"You're right, you couldn't earn that." He rocked back on his heels, looking up at the ceiling. "You can't really earn what you already have, and you also can't really lose it." He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face, his eyes catching on a dark bruise under her cheekbone. She grabbed his wrist and then intertwined their fingers. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered, "we're okay."

He pulled her in by their connected hand and wrapped his other around her, pressing his face into her hair. Her other hand found its way to rest against his lower back. Rogers smiled, though it faltered as he remembered his current status. He quietly reached back and pressed the correct button for his floor.

"Are _you_ okay?" She looked up at him as the doors opened and they pulled apart.

He smiled and nodded, feeling guilt seep into his bones as he lied.

Days passed, and still no news came from Fury. Steve tried to tell himself that it would work out; that he would be able to stay, but Saturday rolled around and he found himself folding his clothing and putting it in a duffel bag. Barnes was quietly sitting on the edge of his bed, twirling a knife in his fingers. Both of them had been stuck in a stupor for the past couple of days, lost in their own thoughts as to what was going to happen.

"I found out who wrote that report on the fight," Bucky mumbled. "Stark wrote it. I guess he got what he wanted."

"And what was that?" Rogers didn't have it in him to be angry at the mechanic. He felt like he had when he hadn't slept in days, even though he had been sleeping alright over the past couple of months.

"I think he wants to lead, thinks he's better."

"Maybe he's right." The captain shrugged. They both went quiet.

"Thanks," Barnes suddenly blurted, "for coming after me. I—uh, I don't think I ever told you."

Steve looked up at him, paused for a moment, and then nodded. He went back to his folding. "I'd do it over again if I had to." These were the kind of comfortably uncomfortable conversations that they had always had before. Before everything had gone to hell and left both of them in a completely different century. Before they had lost everything, including each other. Buck nodded back and continued to spin his knife.

A ding from the elevator drew their attention, though neither stopped what they were doing. "Morning," someone said. Rogers hardly recognized the voice as he looked up. Coulson was standing in the doorway, his usual clipboard held against his chest. He hadn't seen the agent since Loki. He smiled at both of them and pulled a small bundle out of his coat pocket. "Package for Steve Rogers."

"Didn't know Stark used FedEx," Bucky grumbled as his friend turned the small package over. "Heck, how did you even get up here?"

"He's SHIELD's second in command, Buck." Steve muttered absentmindedly as he pulled the yellow packaging apart. His SHIELD creds, which had been confiscated when he was admitted to the hospital, were staring back at him. "Is this a joke?" He looked up at Phil.

"Nope, real deal right there." The agent mock saluted him. "Welcome back, Cap." He smiled and checked his watch. "I would love to stay and talk, but I have other stuff to do. I'll see you around." Coulson turned and walked out, soon followed by the sound of the elevator doors closing.

Rogers leaned back against the bed, still staring at the badge and card in his hand. He had no idea how, but Fury had worked his magic. Bucky patted his head and scooped up his duffel bag.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your little party and go put all my crap back where I had it." He grinned and walked out, leaving the captain to his own devices. Steve let out a laugh that was some kind of a mix between relieved, overjoyed, and amazed. Somehow, Fury always made it work out. Everything felt right in the world; Bucky had been found, he and Natasha had been fixed, and he wasn't going to be evicted in a matter of hours. He stood up and put his creds on the dresser as he heard the elevator stop. Everyone seemed to be coming and going today. Nat appeared and immediately stretched out on his bed.

"Are you leaving soon?" She watched him as he laid down next to her, his feet hanging off the bed as he tried to keep his head even with hers. Rogers had told her earlier in the week about the situation, and they had decided to keep in touch through the entire thing.

"No," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and control his soaring heart. "I'm not leaving at all. Coulson just came in and gave my creds back."

"Are you serious?" She sat up and looked down at him. Romanoff grabbed his hand in both of hers and squeezed as hard as she could. "Steve, that's great!" She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He smiled and pulled her down on top of him, feeling her knees on either side of his waist. "Looks like there's a happy ending after all," he murmured.

 **Thank you so much for reading and for all the support!**


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